Captured

by Beverly Jenkins

  Making herself comfortable in the firelit room, she leaned back against the pillows, listening to the haunting music and wondering what might happen when Dominic returned. She doubted she’d be so bold as to let him share the bed, but she did wish to share more passion. It was shameless, she knew, but she couldn’t turn her mind anywhere else.

  A short while later, a knock sounded, and his voice carried through the door, “May I come in?”

  “Yes,” she called in reply.

  The moment he entered and her eyes swept over his tall perfect frame, the heat lingering from this afternoon’s encounter rekindled like fresh wood on embers.

  “Are you well?” he asked, standing across the room and observing her with eyes that seemed to catch the firelight.

  “I am, and you?”

  “Yes.”

  He walked over to the foot of the bed. “My men enjoyed your company at supper.”

  His steady gaze made her heart pound. “I enjoyed them as well. Especially the toast.”

  “We didn’t mean to offend with our laughter.”

  “I wasn’t by any means.”

  “Good, because they like you.”

  “I like them, as well.”

  The idle chatter was a masquerade. What they wanted was to pick up where they’d left off this afternoon.

  “May I ask you something?” she said.

  He nodded. “What is it?”

  “The story about Esteban and the boar.”

  “It is a true story,” he replied.

  “Not that, but the part about him and the lady. Were they engaging in coitus when the boar surprised them?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I just—” Articulating what she wanted to ask was difficult because females weren’t supposed to discuss such things.

  He cocked his head at her and waited for her to continue.

  She looked back up into his face. “I always thought the act was supposed to be done inside at night.”

  “Inside, outside. At night. Midday. There are no rules. Those who believe there are probably aren’t enjoying themselves much.” He sat down next to her on the edge of the mattress. “Take the enjoyment I gave you this afternoon, multiply it by as high as you can count, and that’s how good it can be.”

  She found that amazing.

  “There’s a grand difference between the coitus that led to your children and true lovemaking, petite.”

  The unspoken desire in his eyes stroked her like a touch from his hand. When he leaned over and kissed her softly, she rippled like a wave on the ocean. There was power in the contact, but also a gentleness that cajoled and invited her to join in. She met him gladly. Having a bit more experience than she’d had earlier, she slid her palms over his lean, muscular arms and thrilled at the feel of his mouth moving over hers. When his arms gathered her in, she answered with all the ardor she could muster. He groaned and pulled her onto his lap, quilts and all, and eased her close until she was flush against his chest.

  Lips against her ear, he breathed, “Inside. Outside. Midday. I’m going to make love to you everywhere.”

  Clare couldn’t breathe. His hand was roaming up and down her spine and over her breasts. Heat burned through the layers of clothing to her skin, making her nipples bud and plead. Hot lips flamed against her jaw as he promised, heatedly, “I’m going to take you in the moonlight, and the next day, under the morning sun.”

  The scandalous words set off a series of smoldering sensations that made her body flow and sing.

  “Inside. Outside. Midday,” he echoed.

  Being with him made her forget all about the Old Testament morals she’d been raised with and want to experience all the pleasures of the flesh his could offer hers. Mimicking him, she slid the tip of her tongue against the parted corners of his mouth. Savoring the low groan he gave in response, she boldly repeated the move.

  They soon lost touch with time and place. The possessive slide of his large hands over places no man had ever explored until he entered her life, left her yearning and breathless. The torrid pressure of his lips worshipping over the silken skin above the nightshirt’s collar dropped her head back and made her world spin. He brushed kisses over the silent offering and her soft sigh drifted up like a note from Tait’s fiddle. He worshipped his way down the front of the shirt to her already budded breasts. Once there, he filled his hands with their delicate weight, toyed with the nipples, then recaptured her lips with a fierce yet gentle thoroughness.

  “Let me touch you,” he whispered passionately.

  While his mouth continued to ply hers, his fingers pleasured the hardened crests with magical expertise. The storm inside rose and expanded. Desire had her in such a mindless state, she didn’t protest as he undid the nightshirt’s buttons. The thin shift she had on underneath seemed nonexistent when he bent to pay her tribute. The licks and tugs of his wordless devotion rocked her like small strikes of lightning. She sensed the nightshirt moving up her thighs but she was too caught up in the storm to pay it much mind. When he finally raised his head and looked into her eyes, her nipples were hard as diamonds and her shift damp.

  Dominic was in turmoil. The pirate in him wanted to lay her down and have at it, but the gentleman who also lived inside held back. The two entities warred with each other for a long moment. In the end, he gently but firmly moved her off his lap. He turned away from the tempting sight of her and ran his hands wearily over his face.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “You’re too damn tempting, woman.”

  There was silence for a moment as Dominic continued to fight against himself. “I’m not accustomed to having a good woman in my bed.”

  “Is that so wrong?”

  “It is when I want you nude.”

  “Nude? You’re jesting?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Why would you want me nude?”

  He chuckled softly. “You truly are an innocent, aren’t you?”

  He came to a decision. “I have to leave you. If I stay here one more moment, not only will you learn why I want you nude, every man on this ship is going to know I’m making love to you, and that wouldn’t be fair to you or to them.”

  “Dominic—”

  He stood. The tumult raging below his waist was going to make it difficult to leave the room gracefully, but it couldn’t be helped. “I’m going to be busy with the ship until we drop anchor, so if I don’t see you until then, I’m offering my apologies in advance.”

  “What?”

  He bowed. “Good night, Clare.”

  Her astonished face was the last thing he saw before turning and exiting the room.

  Alone, in the firelit darkness, Clare fell back on the bed. The logical parts of herself understood his reasoning, and in a way applauded him, but the parts of herself that he’d left pulsating and open were bereft and disappointed at his abrupt departure.

  Dominic entered the quarters shared by Gaspar and James. Both men took a look at his tightly set features, but before they could say anything, he warned, “Not one word.”

  They continued to watch as he availed himself of a spot on the floor and covered himself with the blankets he’d taken from the ship’s stores. Turning away from them he growled, “Don’t ever let me steal a good woman again. Ever!”

  When it became apparent that that was all he had to say, they shared a knowing smile and resumed their backgammon game.

  Chapter 5

  A

  ccustomed to rising early, Clare was up and dressed when a knock sounded and a voice called out, “Miss Clare, it is Gaspar. May I enter?”

  She went to the door and opened it to find the quartermaster standing on the other side, breakfast tray in hand.

  “The captain is busy, and asked if I’d share your meal with you this morning. If that meets with your approval?”

  Even though Dominic had prepared her for his absence, disappointment stung. Hiding it, she nodded. “It does, please come in.”


  He set the tray on the table and then helped her with her chair before seating himself. “It’s more turtle soup and hardtack, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s quite all right. I’ll decline the hardtack though.”

  “I don’t fault you. It’s difficult to get excited about weevils and worms so early in the morning.”

  The jest made her smile. “May I pour?” she asked, indicating the pot of tea also on the tray.

  “Please.”

  She poured them each a bit and then started in on her soup. “How long have you known the captain?”

  “Since we were boys. His father was kind enough to purchase me from the block.”

  That surprised her. “You were a captive?”

  “Yes, and Vanweldt’s father was the slaver responsible.”

  Her lips tightened. “So, it is a family tradition for the Vanweldts to traffic in children.”

  “Yes, and yesterday’s sinking of the Amsterdam partially satisfied my lifelong dream of revenge against them.”

  She confessed, “I, too, was captured as a child, and wonder if the Vanweldts were the ones responsible.”

  “Without access to the slave ship’s manifest, it would be difficult to determine, because unfortunately there are others who capture and sell children as well.”

  Clare shook her head in disgust. “May they all be damned.”

  He raised his mug of tea in agreement.

  “Have you attempted to find your true family?” she asked him.

  “No. Dominic and I talked about it when we came of age, but it is too dangerous. A man like me, with my size and brawn, would risk recapture in Africa were I in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m certain I was taken from the western interior, but that is all.”

  Clare wondered how and if the hundreds of thousands of souls stolen from the continent would ever reestablish ties to their real families. How many mothers cried themselves to sleep each night grieving for their children? How many fathers had lost their sons and brothers, and children their parents? The slave trade was an insidious, rampant evil that appeared to have no end. Even though some voices in England and in the colonies were beginning to be raised against it, she saw little change on the immediate horizon. “Were you treated well by the captain’s father?”

  “Oh yes. Antoine LeVeq’s workers had been freed for years prior to my coming to the block, so when he purchased me, he freed me as well. Dominic and I grew up as brothers. We were schooled together, sailed the world together, and grieved together at his mother’s graveside after her untimely death.”

  “She was ill?”

  “No. Poisoned.”

  Her mouth dropped in astonishment. “Do you know by whom?”

  “Antoine’s wife, Nancine.”

  Clare continued to stare.

  “Antoine and Nancine’s marriage was an arranged one, but his love for Dom’s mother, Marie, was born of his heart. Nancine hated her.”

  “Was she ever punished?”

  “No, she’s a duchess of the realm, and her family had the ear of the king. The doctors didn’t dare go to the authorities.”

  “And the captain’s father had no recourse?”

  “Other than to never see nor communicate with Nancine or Eduard for the remainder of his life, no. After Marie’s death, he went to sea and took me and Dominic with him. He never set foot in France again.”

  “That is a sad tale.”

  “Indeed.

  And a telling one in that it added more flesh to Dominic LeVeq the man. She knew from speaking with him how much he loved his mother. Her death and the horrible circumstances surrounding it must have caused him tremendous sorrow.

  “I’m to be your escort for today, if you’d like to take some air after we are done here.”

  “Are the captain’s duties so pressing?” she asked, going along with the ruse.

  He nodded. “If you would prefer James—”

  “No, your company is fine. I just don’t wish to take you from your duties.”

  “Escorting a beautiful woman is far more of a joy than any duty.”

  “Then I’d be honored to have you as an escort.”

  Up on deck, the winds were warm. The crew members she passed gave her nods of greeting, while others called out theirs. She acknowledged both warmly. Regardless of how the men on the ship were viewed elsewhere, in her presence they’d been gentlemen, and she appreciated their kindness. She spotted the captain up by the helm, but if he saw her he didn’t let on. Disappointment filled her again, but she refused to let it cloud such a beautiful day or her response to Gaspar’s wonderful company.

  Standing by the rail, she saw land off in the distance, and when she asked Gaspar what it was he answered, “Santo Domingo, or Haiti as it is sometimes called. By either name it is a French-owned hell for the hundreds of thousands of captives there. Many believe the island will be awash in blood soon if conditions do not improve.”

  “They think there will be a revolt?”

  “Unlike anything the European masters have ever seen.”

  “There have been uprisings in the colonies. None have been very successful, but it is the single most fear of the masters that their captive will someday revolt and kill them in their beds.”

  “As well it should be. Slaves may have the legal status of oxen but they are human beings and have a God-given right to be free.”

  They watched silently until the island slowly passed from view.

  Clare noted that the weather was considerably warmer than it had been a few days ago and she supposed it was because they were traveling south. “Where are we destined?”

  “Eastern region of Cuba.”

  “There is still slavery there, am I correct?”

  “Yes. Thousands of Africans are sold in Havana each year, but we pay the governors enough to leave our people alone.”

  She knew from her geography that the Spanish-owned island was not very far from the colonial mainland, which meant it would be the closest she’d be to Savannah since leaving for England with the Sullivans. Thinking of home naturally made her muse on her children and she prayed again that they were faring well.

  “Our home is paradise on earth,” he interrupted her thoughts to say. “I’m certain you will enjoy your time there.”

  She was certain she would also. For the past few days being able to rise every morning with nothing to do but see to her own needs was still taking some getting accustomed to, so she couldn’t imagine how it might feel to walk in a world where she’d be completely free.

  “You may enjoy it enough to consider staying permanently.”

  “I can’t. I’ve two children in Savannah I cannot leave behind.”

  He studied her for a long moment. “The captain knows?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then the men of the Marie will do everything in our power to remedy that.”

  Clare had already stated her misgivings to the captain on the matter, so rather than resurrect the debate, she replied simply, but sincerely, “Thank you.”

  Although Clare was enjoying having no duties while on board, deep down inside she was growing bored living such a pampered life, not to mention Dominic’s decision to avoid her, so she asked Gaspar, “Is there anything that I may help with?”

  He looked confused. “Help with?”

  “On the ship. May I help with the wash, prepare meals, darn socks? I’d like to contribute while I’m on board.”

  “Have you spoken to the captain about this?”

  “No. He’s busy,” she said pointedly.

  He smiled. “In truth, we have nothing suitable for a lady’s hands.”

  “How about hands that have worked since the age of seven? I’m aware that I can’t climb the riggings or clean the cannons, but there has to be something I can help with that needs doing.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “Yes, Gaspar, I am.”

  “Let me talk to the captain.”

  “He will only tell you no
.”

  “Let me speak with him anyway. Will you wait here until I return?”

  She nodded. As he walked away, she was certain Dominic would deny her request, so because she knew the ship’s layout, she decided to see what task she could find to do on her own.

  Her mission took her across the main deck to where Pierre Tait and two men were seated repairing sails. “Mr. Tait?”

  He looked up out of his one eye and immediately jumped to his feet and bowed. “Mademoiselle Clare.” For a moment, he glanced around as if confused. “Is the captain not with you?”

  “No, he’s attending to duties.”

  The men working with Tait eyed her with varying amounts of wariness.

  “Is there something you need?” the fiddler asked.

  “Yes, Mr. Tait. A job. May I help you with the sails? I am a very good needlewoman. If you would just show me the stitches you employ, I’d be glad to assist.”

  They all stared.

  Tait seemed speechless for a moment before finally replying, “This is no work for a lady, miss. The sails are dirty, full of salt…”

  Clare interrupted his explanation by taking a seat on the deck. “Please hand me a needle and show me what to do.”

  One of the men warned, “Captain’s not going to like this, mum.”

  “We’ll tell him I threatened you with marooning.”

  Peals of laughter greeted that. It seemed to break the tension. Tait studied her for a few seconds longer. With an amused shake of his head, he surrendered. He handed her one of the whalebone needles, showed her how and what to do, and she and the men set about the task.

  Dominic was in the hold cataloging the goods they’d be unloading once they reached home. At Gaspar’s entrance he looked up and asked, “How’s Clare?”

  “Looking for work.”

  “What?”

  “She wants a job.”

  Dominic stared, confused. “Why?”

  “Wants to contribute.”

  “She doesn’t need to contribute.”

  “Go up and tell her that. She’s waiting for me to return with a reply. She’s also not happy with you avoiding her.”